


And We Came to Learn the Sea

by nyoka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 13:58:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyoka/pseuds/nyoka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bed smells like sea salt, and Dean thinks for a moment that a boat surrounded by the ocean must be one of the best ways to guard against demons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And We Came to Learn the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> For Ashley. Title from Dar Williams’ _We Learned The Sea_. Originally posted [here](http://nyokafic.tumblr.com/post/39509221617/fic-and-we-came-to-learn-the-sea-dean-benny).

_~_

"It’s better to think of my life like that — part miracle, part madness. It’s better if I accept that I can’t control any of the things that matter. My life is a trail of shipwrecks and set-sails. There are no arrivals, no destinations; there are only sandbanks and shipwreck; then another boat, another tide."—Jeanette Winterson, _Lighthousekeeping_

~

The bed smells like sea salt, and Dean thinks for a moment that a boat surrounded by the ocean must be one of the best ways to guard against demons. Maybe not ghosts or sea sirens or mermaids or tentacled monsters, but he’s not too concerned about those things at the moment. Dean’s too busy burrowing down beneath layers of wool and down, hiding out from the damp chill of the early morning.

He breathes deeply, his cheek pressed against the pillow as he tries to recapture the lingering remnants of a good night’s sleep. But his ears are too attuned to every sound around him. He can hear the of the quiet moaning of the boat as it rocks with the gentle waves, the soft sound of Benny’s whistling slipping through the walls, and somewhere in the distance he can hear the chiming of a harbor bell.

Last night Benny had docked the boat in the port of a some small coastal town along the Texas Gulf Coast. Dean tries to remember the name of the town as he pushes his head above his blanket, but it escapes his memory. He yawns, stretching his legs out under the covers, feeling all the aches and pains of a playful couple of days. He wonders how early it is, his eyes taking in the fuzzy golden light pouring in through the window. His belly rumbles, and Dean’s mind instantly turns to the smoked salmon and poached eggs Benny had promised for breakfast. _God, yes_. The guy may be a vampire on a strict diet of blood-bank donations, but he can cook like nothing else.

They’ve been sailing around the Gulf for the past three days, and Dean can admit he actually kind of likes being out in a boat. On the water. The sea calms him in a way few things but the road have ever been able to do. There’s a wildness to it, an untameability, that Dean finds refreshingly familiar.

Dean hears heavy footsteps and the slamming of a door, and he rubs at his eyes, trying to decide between waking up or sleeping more. The decision is made easier for him when Benny steps through the cabin door, the briny smell of the sea following behind him on the breeze. He’s fully dressed already, looking all the more like Captain Haddock in his black visor cap, black peacoat, white thermal shirt, and suspenders.

Dean smiles, then closes his eyes and settles back in the bed, feigning sleep. He can feel the moment Benny settles beside him on the mattress, a warm weight pressing against his side.

"Rise and shine, brother." The rough Southern drawl slips through Benny’s lips like smooth whiskey, warm and spicy and familiar. Dean smirks, pulling his blanket higher, curling around his pillow.

"Go away, dude," he mumbles. "M’sleeping."

There’s an amused huff from Benny as he leans closer and presses a kiss against Dean’s neck. “Guess I’m gonna have to wake you up then.”

Dean hums affirmatively as Benny’s warm, rough hands slide under the blankets, brushing against Dean’s already pert nipples. He’s still humming as Benny’s wet mouth sucks along the skin covering the carotid artery along Dean’s neck. The rough scrape of the other man’s beard against Dean’s own stubbled cheek sends heat pooling in Dean’s belly, and his cock thickens, clearly ready for more. Dean knows that his blood is rushing faster and faster though his veins as his heartbeat speeds up, and he knows that Benny can sense it as he leans closer, lips pressing against Dean’s chest.

Dean doesn’t fuss when Benny pulls the blankets off of him, revealing Dean’s still-naked, sleep-heavy body. He shivers, but the coolness is short-lived as Benny presses him down into the mattress, crawls over Dean’s body, and settles on top. The full weight of Benny on top of him warms him up quickly, and Dean’s growling for more of that crazy heat when Benny wraps his fingers around Dean’s thick thighs and spreads him wide, making room for himself between his legs. Dean shivers as Benny’s beard moves roughly against his neck, the irritation smoothed by long, warm swipes of Benny’s tongue.

Dean can’t tell what’s rocking harder, the bed or the boat, when Benny grinds down against him, his heavy weight pushing Dean further up the bed, his voice a low, wet, hungry growl in Dean’s ear, “If you want to stay in bed, then I guess we gotta fuck.”

"Bring it," Dean laughs, because that was the plan all along, and he curls his fingers around Benny’s coat and holds on tight as the smell of the sea surrounds him, and they both go under.

~

Dean finds Benny’s coat hanging on the hook by the door, the thick material carrying the lingering salty scent of the oysters they brought at the fisherman’s wharf that morning. When Dean shrugs into the wool coat, it’s still warm from Benny’s shoulders. He pulls it around himself, buttoning it up as he steps onto the deck of the boat.

They left Rosewater Bay that morning, saying goodbye to the quaint fishing community nestled along the sandy shores of the Gulf. They’ve been sailing for about an hour, and the morning fog still shimmers across the rolling surface of the water. Dean watches the breakers slide against the rocky shore of a nearby island. There’s a lighthouse out there, and a couple of cottages, windblown and derelict, left to the hands of time.

Dean stretches out his hands, his fingers curling around the boat’s railing as he settles alongside it. He breathes in the salt-laden air, shivering in the warm breeze brimming off of the water. He watches as the boat bounces over the green waves, feels its gentle sway back and forth. There are a number of other islands in the distance, peeking out from the fog, but Dean doesn’t know where they’ll decide to set ashore tonight. A different place every night; it’s a lot like the road sometimes.

Dean has driven along coastal highways all over the country, from the the lazy sprawl of California’s coastline to the steel grey shorelines brushing up against Main’s seaside roads. It’s strange to see it all from this point of view now, to realize how the ocean had surrounded him from every side all his life. That it had always been here, waiting.

Dean smirks, thinking about his addiction to Shark Week (only the most _awesome_ week of TV, thank you very much). Chuckling to himself, he turns away from the view of the sea and heads back toward the pilot house. Benny’s at the helm, whistling softly, the wooden wheel sliding through his thick, tanned fingers. He’s wearing a soft grin, framed by a salt-and-pepper beard and teasing dimples.

Dean watches him guide the trawler through the smooth waters for a beat before he says, “How goes it, Cap?”

"It goes," Benny says, lips quirking as he turns to look at Dean. "You wearing my jacket again?"

"Dude, it’s friggin’ cold," Dean says, shrugging as he leans back against the wall of the cabin.

"It wouldn’t be so damn cold if you put on some actual clothes," Benny chuckles, shaking his head.

"You’d just rip them right off me," Dean says, flashing Benny his best smart-ass grin. He’s wearing only a pair of worn sweats underneath Benny’s coat at the moment, and hey, that’s good enough for now, right? Dean thinks so.

Benny side-eyes him, and Dean’s laughing as he pushes up from the wall, crowding Benny against the wheel. He presses a soft, dry kiss to the underside of Benny’s prickly jaw. Benny’s hands catch Dean’s face, and Dean’s groaning as the other man pushes his tongue into his mouth. Dean kisses him back harder, pulling him closer, chasing the salt on his lips. He then reaches a hand between them, tugging suggestively at Benny’s suspenders.

A low rumbling sound comes from Benny’s chest. “You’re a bad distraction,” the vampire murmurs against Dean’s mouth, his voice gone soft and rough.

Dean bites at Benny’s bottom lip, sucking on it softly as the heat builds in the tiny space between their bodies. Benny drags them away from the wheel and presses Dean back against the pilot-house wall, sliding his body against Dean’s, moving them together nice and slow. All Dean wants to do right now is touch, be touched, everywhere, at once.

"Told you I didn’t need clothes," Dean encourages as Benny slides his cool hands inside the waistband of Dean’s sweats. "I want you to touch me, man. I want your hands on me right the fuck _now_.”

"Still such a pushy little thing," Benny drawls thickly, stroking the strip of bare stomach above Dean’s waistband, his fingers brushing over the crinkle of hair leading down to his navel. "Want my hands so bad? You can have ‘em."

Dean moans, his eyes closing, and his chin tipping up as he says, “More.”

Benny makes quick work of getting Dean out of his coat, sliding Dean’s sweats down his legs, and wrapping a palm around Dean’s swelling cock. Dean pushes into Benny’s hands, needing it so much he’s gasping and keening at the feel of the other man’s sea-roughened touch. His mouth falls open to welcome Benny’s searching kisses, Dean’s tongue running ever-so-carefully over the sharp hint of retractable fangs slipping down from Benny’s gumline.

Dean shivers, his mouth going slack, his hands clenching and unclenching on Benny’s wide shoulders. “Take it slow,” he breathes out, feeling Benny’s body tense up, his breathing gone shallow-rough, ragged. “I’m with you in this.”

Benny growls, moving his lips to Dean’s neck, sucking softly for another long moment before taking Dean’s mouth again. Benny’s fingers find the vein on the underside of Dean’s cock, which he strokes, slowly, teasingly. Dean pushes a tiny, breathy laugh against Benny’s mouth, gasping and rocking forward into Benny’s fisted hand. Dean begins to thrust in and out, slow and easy the first few times, loving the feel of Benny’s calloused, rough palm along his shaft.

Benny starts jerking Dean off at a steady pace, his rhythm mapping the rise and fall of the waves. Dean’s spine arches forward, his head tipping back, his throat bared. He’s keening when Benny’s teeth graze the curve of his neck, nipping so so carefully, not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to push the both of them ever-closer to the edge.

"Benny, fuck," Dean whispers, pushing his hands around the other man’s waist, grabbing at his ass as he pulls him closer.

"I got you, Dean," Benny whispers, dragging his mouth down along the thick vein of Dean’s neck one more time. The feel of soft lips and the faint brush of stubble lingers after as he pulls away.

The friction and speed of Benny’s hand increases, his thumb pressing against Dean’s cockslit and his grip tightening just underneath the head. Dean can feel the muscles in his stomach tensing and locking, and then he’s thrusting into Benny’s hand with surprising abandon. In a matter of seconds he’s coming, his dick pulsing, his body bucking forward, and his mouth parting on a soft whimper. Benny just keeps stroking him through it, and then his hand comes to rest, protective and warm, between Dean’s legs. Dean collapses into Benny’s hold, and they kiss, mouths wet and sloppy and still tasting like the sea.

"The things you do to me," Benny manages between sweet, biting nips at Dean’s bottom lip.

Dean groans, opens his eyes, and the look on Benny’s face is enough to make him go hard again. The vampire’s eyes are strung-out and darkly fierce, but there’s something there that’s softer, tender almost. Something almost as raw and naked as Dean feels.

"Glad you agreed to this little trip," Benny whispers, hands running up and down Dean’s back.

"Glad you didn’t lose my number," Dean says with a soft laugh, settling against the wall as Benny pulls away.

Dean eyes the space between them, his gaze landing on the hard-on currently tenting Benny’s pants. “I can take care of that for you,” he adds, sinking to his knees with pause, leaning in to run his lips over the man’s still-clothed erection.

Benny releases a slow-rolling moan, his hand coming down to grip at Dean’s hair, to massage deep into his scalp. Dean smiles as he runs his face over Benny’s groin, nuzzling it, breathing deep and pushing his cheek against the hard flesh twitching behind the layers of cotton. He suckles Benny’s dick through the cotton of his slacks, his lips working to encircle the growing bulge, his saliva soaking through the material.

"Jesus Christ, your pretty fuckin’ mouth, Dean," Benny groans as Dean looks up.

Dean smirks, smacking his lips and asks, “Gonna fuck my pretty fuckin’ mouth or what?”

Benny curls his fingers tighter at the base of Dean’s skull, strokes his cheek with his thumb. “Yeah, I think I will,” he whispers.

Dean’s smiling wide as he slowly unzips the man, letting his cock bounce free. The thick head bumps along Dean’s mouth, slip-slides along his cheek, and leaves a cool, sticky trail that Dean reaches out to trace with a finger and bring to his own lips to taste. Salt, salt, everywhere salt.

Benny sounds like he’s still cursing when Dean opens his mouth to take his cock inside. Benny’s hands both slide down around Dean’s skull and tilt his head up so that he can push in at a better angle. Suddenly Dean’s mouth is stuffed full of cock, and Dean’s tongue is curling against the delicate shaft. Benny is thick, head fat and smooth, and his heavy weight pressing down on Dean’s tongue feels good.

Benny fucks into Dean slowly at first, brushing just barely at the back of his throat, careful not to choke him. But when Dean clamps down hard, Benny jerks his hips forward, sliding in deeper still.

"Sweet lord," Benny groans, the words sounding shaky in the other man’s mouth. Benny’s fingers scrabble for a better hold on Dean’s head, yanking at Dean’s close-cropped hair. "Suck me good, brother." 

Dean is only too willing to comply. He closes his eyes and slides further on Benny’s cock, lips stretching around the fat length.

"Can’t believe you’re taking all of me," Benny says as he slides his hand over to cup Dean’s face, rubbing at the joint of his jaw, and urging him open more.

Dean obeys, stretching wider, hollowing his cheeks out. He sucks tight as Benny starts thrusting again, slow and steady and deep. Benny pulls back and shoves in harder, and Dean’s nose presses against the rough thatch of his pubes, his throat working around his fat length. For a moment Dean’s lost in the sensation of Benny fucking into his face, and his mind fills with the roar of his rushing blood, the sound of the waves pounding against the side of the boat, the smell of musk and earth and ocean.

When Dean opens his eyes and looks up, he sees Benny’s head thrown back on a animalistic howl, his throat working tensely, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Dean can feel it as Benny gets close, the twitch of his balls, the tightening of his fingers on his scalp, and the jack-hammering motion of his hips. His whole body seems to flex with the force of his orgasm when it hits, his muscles tensing up as he slides out of Dean’s mouth to shoot thick ropes across Dean’s face.

Dean shuts his eyes as the sticky seed lands across his mouth and cheek. He slumps back against the cabin wall, licking at his lips as he turns to look up at Benny. “Salty,” he says, grinning wide.

Benny stares down at him, eyes heavy-lidded and dark as they fix on him. His mouth slowly pulls into a grin to match Dean’s own, and he shakes his head and says on a soft growl, “Can’t take you anywhere.”

Dean laughs softly, forcing breath out of a throat that’s well-fucked and tender-raw from recent use. “Better dock this boat somewhere soon and take my ass back to bed then,” he says, his words a dirty-rough tease.

Benny’s laughter echoes around the small confines of the cabin. The sun spilling through the north-facing widow is bright, and the air is heavy, musky, and warm. Dean smiles, enjoying it all.

"Come here, sha," Benny says, words soft with Cajun inflection. He leans down and runs his hand across Dean’s face. Dean leans his head into the touch, closes his eyes, and thinks of the sea.

-fin-


End file.
